Identity Crisis
by Illeanah
Summary: Au: Second Year. Harry finds some documents in the Dursley's attic that drastically change his life - and having him questioning - who am I?
1. Chapter 1

Identity Crisis

Chapter One. I'm Curious…Just Curious

Twelve year old Harry Potter sat miserably on his hunches in the Dursley's attic. Uncle Vernon hadn't been too pleased with the results of his important meeting with the Masons; truth be told Harry wasn't either. A strange creature had the gall to dump Aunt Petunia's precious pudding on Mrs. Mason's head. In hind sight it might have been funny later if the owl from the Ministry of Magic hadn't turned up... the Dursley's weren't the only ones who did not like creatures of the avian type.

Uncle Vernon had been ropable as he closed the door behind the furious Mason's with ill concealed viciousness. The fat man then turned on Harry quicker that the youngster could scramble into the relative safety of the kitchen. The next thing Harry knew his nose was pressed to the kitchen table and Uncle Vernon's belt was searing his butt. That was until Aunt Petunia arrived with her hefty genuine rainforest wood hairbrush.

Harry rubbed his bum thoughtfully. Uncle Vernon had been thorough with delivering hearty wallops with Aunt Petunia's spare hairbrush, which was kept for occasions like these.

In addition to the humiliating smacking, Harry had been locked up in Dudley's second bedroom at night and during the day locked into rooms while working on his multitude of chores.

Today Harry had been locked in the dusty, dingy attic and was sorting through old things to throw out. Although it was unlikely anything would actually be thrown out. Aunt Petunia was a little bit of a hoarder.

Harry thought that this job might have been a little interesting if his Aunt had left anything remotely non-boring up here to find. He always liked to indulge in a little bit of healthy snooping while doing chores. Snooping of course was done when the Dursley's were not looking. Last year Harry had found an old copy of a statement Uncle Vernon had given the police. Something about some young yuppies giving Uncle Vernon what sounded like a well earned thrashing. That particular document was an interesting read and it made Harry feel just a little bit better that someone else had thrashed his Uncle.

Sneezing brought Harry out of his reverie and he continued to sort through neatly packed oddments into carefully uniformed cardboard boxes. So far he found Aunt Petunia's maternity clothes – seemed like Dudley was huge before he was even born and plenty of Dudley baby photos – Harry kept the one of a naked three year old Dudley for later.

Sniffling and wiping his runny nose on his long sleeves Harry moved to a shoebox and settled it onto his lap. He opened the lid not expecting to find anything interesting. And as he supposed all it was bunches of paper. He was about to fling the whole box into the large rubbish bag when he decided against it. He would regret it if he threw out something important… and there still might be something of note...

The first few documents were old bank statements printed on run of the mill muggle paper. But Harry nearly dropped the box in complete surprise when underneath the seemingly dull mugglish documents was a large wad of parchment… stuff that Harry had only seen in the wizarding world.

Harry pulled the wad out and tugged at the twine that held them together. The knot wasn't very tight and came undone quite easily. The first thing on the pile was an envelope and when Harry turned it over he nearly fainted in surprise. There plain as day was the Hogwarts seal firmly stamped in glittering purple ink.

He had known since last summer that his Aunt was aware of the magical world. But why would someone from Hogwarts write to her of all people?

With trembling hands Harry opened the letter. After all, if it was from the magical world then most likely it was about him. And a little snooping never bothered anyone.

_Mr. and Mrs V Dursley,_

_I regret to inform you of the untimely death of Mr. and Mrs. Potter. I have left their child in your safe keeping. I am sure that you will have no qualms taking him in. The child and your family shall be safe from dark wizards and the like as long as you do so. Even though the youngster is adopted, Lily's ultimate sacrifice will protect him, your family and your property. _

_Enclosed are various documents that young Harry may need later in life. Due to the delicacy of the documents please note it is advisable not to share them with Harry before I appoint a time. Bare in mind the consequences if you choose not to heed my warning._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_(Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards.)_

Harry's mouth went dry at the word 'adopted'. He shook his head several times before his brain could begin to think. Adopted, how could he be adopted? Harry's heart leapt in his rib cage because that meant Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia weren't really his Aunt and Uncle. But why didn't Dumbledore tell him he was adopted? Why did he look like James? And why did Dumbledore think he was safe in this house? It was nothing extraordinary after all!

Stuffing the letter and the rest of the documents into his jacket Harry grumbled. He'd read them later, he decided, when he wanted to be put in a foul mood.

HpHpHp

Harry had the opportunity to read his letters after he had been thrown back into Dudley's second bedroom. That had been two days ago and he hadn't seen anyone expect Aunt Petunia's hand as she pushed through cold soup through the cat flap.

As it was Harry had finished what school work he could and was now lying on the bed on his tummy bored out if his wits. This is what convinced him to bite the bullet and read the rest of the damn documents.

First he smoothed out Dumbledore's letter and read it through slowly again. Rude and to the point Harry thought. If he had found out a sibling had been cruelly murdered he would like to be told with a little more sympathy. Sighing he set the letter aside.

Harry pulled out the next parchment. At first glance it looked like a business receipt. Along the top was a gaudy ink design of medieval drawing of a hen with outstretched wings. Underneath was the company name: Little Tykes Agency.

Harry blinked incredulously and glanced down the list.

_Mr. and Mrs. J Potter to order: one newborn male child to have no recording of biological parents. To be of pureblooded stock. 660 Galleons. _

_Changing of baby's features (deluxe potion) 90 Galleons. _

_Legal/Consultant Fees: 130 Galleons. Baby to have similar features of adopting parents. Additional 135 Galleons._

_Documentation: 75 Galleons_.

Harry could hardly believe it. It was like a shopping list for a designer baby. And what on earth was the difference between a deluxe potion and a normal potion. Glaring daggers at the parchment Harry continued down at the part underneath the 'shopping' list.

_Child's Name: Harry James Potter_

_Born: 31__st__ July 1980 _

_Delivered to Adopting Parents on the: 1__st__ August 1980 _

_Total: 1090 Galleons (Paid in Full)_

_Underneath the total of the bill was James' signature and beside that was the name of the owner of _

_Little Tykes: Sydney Higglesworth. _

Harry couldn't believe it. His adoptive parents had paid a small fortune for him. It was a little ridiculous really. Seeing red, but his brain not really registering much Harry flipped through the rest of the stack of parchment. Nothing else was noteworthy. It was just a bunch of parchment on early medical information including yes, that designer baby came with ten toes and fingers.

HpHpHp

_Dear Ron,_

_Having a rotten summer. A strange creature named Dobby ruined the Dursley's dinner party with an important client. Uncle Vernon is not happy. It's a long story; but it stars a creamy pudding and official ministry owls. It retrospect it was kinda funny. Dursley's have virtually locked me up. Uncle Vernon seems to have forgotten Hedwig. Before I forget, Dobby, the funny creature, says I cannot go back to Hogwarts because it isn't safe – little git._

_On a side note what do you know about adoptions in the magical world?_

_Harry._

Harry re-read his letter three or four times, hoping that he wasn't sounding completely and utterly desperate. There was one thing Harry hated being and that was sounding desperate. He told himself that he was not upset by the revelation that he was not a 'real' Potter and Dumbledore had known all along and had not found it important enough to mention. He was curious… just curious.

Sighing Harry called Hedwig over and the beautiful snowy white owl settled beside him. "Take this to Ron," he said as he attached the letter to Hedwig's leg. "Wait for an answer, okay girl."

Hedwig have an intelligent hoot, as if to explain that she understood. Then with two great flaps of her wings she lifted herself into the air and out the window.

Kicking the dust off the ground Harry watched miserably as Hedwig disappeared. "There goes the last of my hope of any intelligent conversation around here. I hope Ron answers my letters soon… I hope Dobby isn't still nicking them the little git."

HpHpHp

There wasn't much to do for Harry but to wait for Ron's reply to his letter. He lay on his bed, or rather thing piece of material that might have once passed for a mattress and lay his head down. Harry thought he only closed his eyes for a moment; however he must have dozed because the next thing he noticed was his room was a lot darker.

Harry stretched slowly, one glance at the cat flap told him that Aunt Petunia hadn't been up with dinner and that he wasn't likely to be getting any. He crossed the floor and to where the cupboard 

door was open. Even in the darking grey of the room Harry could see the sliver of light from the mirror inside the door.

He opened the door slowly and stared at his face in the mirror. "I'm adopted…" he mumbled. "This isn't my real face."

Even as he stood wondering what he really looked like under the deluxe potion, Harry could have sworn that his hair became darker. He stepped closer. Was his nose a different shape?

Harry's reverie was broken by rather loud clanging on the metal bars Uncle Vernon had attached to his windows after the Masons' incident. Spinning around on his heal Harry's eyes darted towards the bars.

"Psst… Harry… this is a break out."

Peering through the gloom Harry could make out the blurry form of Ron, Fred and George Weasley staring at him from the other side of the window. He felt a sudden rush of warmth towards the Weasley's as he stumbled towards them.

"How did you…" Harry's voice trailed off. "Are you crazy?"

The Weasley's had brought with them a light blue ford, that had the ability to fly, in order to rescue them. "Do you even know how to drive?"

"Don't be stupid," one of the twins scoffed. "We flew here didn't we?"

"Will we get into trouble?" Harry said glancing nervously at the car. Things were never as they seemed in the magical world.

"Possibly."

"Come on, Harry… we're rescuing you. It ain't natural for your uncle to keep you under lock and key," Ron said, watching as Fred and George noisily worked on the iron bars by wrapping a chain around them.

"If the Dursley's wake up I'm good as dead," Harry muttered then added after a moment's thought, "I think I'm dead anyway."

hPhPhP

Predictably there was trouble when the boy errant boys reached the Burrow. It dimmed the hilarity of watching poor Uncle Vernon, making a wild grab for Harry and tipping out of the window into Aunt Petunia's Petunias. Harry always knew his uncle was an idiot; and the man had proved him right. Why on earth would one attempt to catch a boy they desperately did not want in the house? Harry would never guess.

"Where have you been?" Mrs. Weasley screeched coming around the corner and brandishing a rather thick looking wooden spoon. Ginny, Ron's younger sister peered out behind her mother and her eyes wide and shining with anticipation. Harry was about to make a run for it, when the matriarch of the Weasley family turned to him. "Hello, Harry, how are you dear?"

"Er.."

"Lovely dear." And before Harry could count to three she was back to chewing up her three boys. "Beds empty; car gone... what was I suppose to think?"

This was when Harry decided now would be a good time to tune out.


	2. Stranded

Chapter Two. Stranded

Harry glared dubiously at the blank piece of brick that separated Ron and himself from platform 9 ¾ and therefore Hogwarts. The stupid mound of muggle architecture had denied him entry – HIM! Giving the wall a vicious kick; Harry turned in time to see an angry looking train conductor glowering at him.

"Fell over," Harry muttered at the guard's direction, refusing to meet the uniformed man's eyes as he picked up Hedwig's cage. The snowy owl did not look impressed. Neither did the guard who was ambling away muttering about 'teenagers'. Harry was almost tempted to call out and correct him. He had a year until he was a teenager after all. Harry shook his head disdainfully – he was used to people thinking very little of him – and he turned to Ron.

Ron's face was ghostly white. "We can't get through," Ron unnecessarily informed Harry in a dead panned voice – in any other circumstance, Harry supposed he would find this funny. But not now, not when Harry's last hope of getting to Hogwarts was pulling out from the station. He felt his stomach drop dreading his immediate future. Feeling as if his freedom from the Dursley's for a whole year had suddenly been snatched from his hand.

"It blocked us out," Ron reintegrated.

"Yes, I can see that," Harry said dryly.

Ron backed his trolley up a few more steps; took three gigantic steps and rammed straight into the brick wall.

"That's not helping, Ron," Harry pointed out helpfully.

"Well, you do something!" Ron snarled, rubbing his bum and glaring at Harry from his vantage point on the cold tiled floor. "What if mum and dad can't back through!"

Harry tried valiantly not to roll his eyes. "Why don't we wait by the car? They have to come back for the car at some point."

"Harry you are a genius!" Ron cried, getting up and wheeling his cart back in the direction of the car pack.

"I am?" Harry mumbled feeling a little disconcerted at Ron's enthusiasm.

"We'll fly dad's car to Hogwarts."

"Hold on? We, as in you and me?" Harry stood frozen unsure if he should be befuddled or bemused by his friend's blatant stupidity. " Fly? To Hogwarts? Ron..."

But Ron was already marching even more determinedly towards the exit.

Thankfully, despite Harry's list of why flying a car, while cool and adventurous, was not a good idea did not have to be used. There was one minor problem that Ron had not taken into account. They didn't have the keys and Harry was not going to tell his best friend that he had learned to hot wire a car back in the days he was still desperate to be friends with Dudley. Of course since Dudley's gang had dared him to hot wire the Head Master's car – Harry was inevitably caught and spent three months in his cupboard after school and on weekends. Mr. Norland, the Head at the time then gave detentions to Harry for the whole semester. It was the best semester of Harry's life.

While contemplating his car theft days, Harry watched as Ron panicked sitting in the front seat (Mr. Weasley had forgotten to actually lock the car) and pressing any buttons that his fingers could press.

"It should be simple!" Ron exclaimed "I watched the twins driving to rescue you!"

"We need the keys Ron," Harry supplied. "We're not going anywhere."

Ron slumped in the front seat and crossed his arms. "It was a good idea."

Harry sighed and pulled out a piece of spare parchment. "We'll write to Professor McGonagall."

"Why not Dumbledore?"

"He'll be too busy to read our letter," Harry didn't feel like telling Ron the real reason behind not writing to Dumbledore. He wasn't feeling terribly charitable towards the old man.

"Yeah well you are Harry Potter," Ron muttered mutinously as Harry started to scribble frantically on the parchment.

"Don't remind me," Harry almost snarled.

As Harry and Ron bickered about who to send the letter to, Mr and Mrs Weasley turned up.

"Hey, ho, boys what are you still doing here?" Mr Weasley cheerfully inquired, despite the murderous look Ron was getting from his mother. Harry doubted that Arthur Weasley ever got mad.

"The brick wall won't let us through to the platform," Harry said quietly. "We're writing a letter to Professor McGonagall."

Mrs Weasley looked doubtfully at the two boys. "Hurry along dears, we'll floo you through to Hogsmeade and you can walk up to the castle. Stay by the car, Arthur."

Ron and Harry followed Mrs Weasley down the street until they came to a familiar looking street.

Harry recognised it instantly as the road where the 'Leaky Cauldron' was.

Mrs Weasley breezed through the establishment and pointed imperiously to where she wanted to boys to sit. Ron and Harry sat and watched as the older woman went to speak to Tom the barkeep.

"I've gotta bad feeling," Ron muttered.

Harry only nodded. But anything would be better than being sent to live the year with the Dursleys. Almost anything.

The two friends watched in trepidation as the older witch returned looking rather triumphant. "It seems one of your Professors is in the ally for last minute resources... you'll be able to floo with him."

"Who?"

Harry already had a funny feeling of who it might be. The one man who he didn't want to see – after Dumbledore.

"Professor Snape, dear."

Harry's stomach nearly lurched. 'I think I'll stick with the Dursley's,' he thought sardonically.

It turned out that they had to wait longer than anticipated for Professor Snape to return. Harry had counted the number of cracks in the wooden floor under his shoes and had identified no less than six steps that creaked when someone stepped on them. He was about to pull out his last minute essay he had written for Binns, who Harry was sure never actually marked any student work, when Snape stalked in.

"Ah Severus, Molly Weasley would have a word with you before you leave," Tom the barkeep called out at Snape's black silhouette. Molly Weasley stood and briskly marched over to Snape indicating the boys to follow. Harry and Ron stood like prisoners being marched to the gallows.

Snape meanwhile had stopped at watched stock still as Mrs Weasley approached with two Gryffindors. "I suppose it is too much to hope that you're here to inform me these two miscreants are not returning to Hogwarts this year?"

"Severus, your foul disposition does not fool me." Molly tsked. Ron watched in amazement as she peered closely at his least liked teachers. "When was the last time you had a decent meal?"

Snape blinked. "Quick metabolism," he murmured glaring at the two Gryffindor boys as if daring them to laugh.

Molly Weasley looked as if she didn't believe a word Snape had said. "Hmm yes well the boys claim that the brick wall at the platform would not let them through."

Snape snorted as if to ask the witch what she wanted him to do about it.

"Perhaps it is the same person who tried to scare me off going back to Hogwarts earlier in the summer," Harry pointed out. There had to be a logical explanation after all.

"Eh, what's that?" Mrs Weasley demanded. "You never mentioned that to me Harry! I know I may not be your mother, but I hope you know young man that..."

"Mum!" Ron cried, rescuing his friend from further embarrassment. "That's all we've been talking about since Harry's been with us! You know the rouge house elf."

"Rogue house elf," Molly sniffed.

"I suppose it is up to me to floo these two hooligans to Hogsmeade."

"If you would Severus."

Snape did not look pleased. But he turned sharply on his heel and glided over to the fireplace.

"Watch for Harry, Severus dear... don't know where that one will end up!"

Harry turned and stared in mortification at Mrs Weasley who waved and bustled back out of the inn.

Snape's heavy hand landed on Harry's shoulder. "I suppose I should be thankful for small miracles. As shocking as it may seem Mr. Potter, you didn't go into insane heroics to get yourself to Hogwarts. It may seem that congratulations are in order as your thought processes seemed to have caught up with you."

Harry sighed and let Snape lead him to the fireplace. "You first Weasley. Potter will come with me."

Harry just about died on the spot. Ron didn't too sure about the situation but he hastily jumped into the fireplace and called loudly 'Hogsmeade'.

"Come Potter."

Snape stepped into the fireplace, nearly dragging Harry with him. "Relax," Snape muttered turning Harry abruptly and snaking one arm securely around his chest. Snape's arm tightened around Harry's middle before the horrible sensation of the floo took over.

Moments later Snape stepped out of the fireplace and released Harry before striding out of the shop and out into the village of Hogsmeade.

Harry followed with Ron at his side – Snape was a few paces ahead obviously not too bothered with two second years.

"I forgot how new you are to the world... it's just a wizarding village."

"Ron whadda you know about adoptions?" Harry asked when he was certain Snape wasn't listening.

Ron laughed. "You aren't adopted Harry."

Harry sighed and decided he better give Ron at least some truth if he was going to get any information out of the red head. "I found something I probably shouldn't have at my Aunt's house." Harry glanced up to ensure that Snape was still ahead and not listening. "I found out that she's not my aunt... so that means someone was adopted along the line, right? Maybe I've got some real family or something."

"Look, Harry, I'll be your family... you don't need some muggle losers to rescue you."

"Thanks Ron... but don't let Hermione hear you talking like that."

"Indeed," Snape put in dryly from up ahead.

Harry was sure he was going to die from embarrassment.

HpHpHp

"Feeling down, are we Potter?"

Harry glared up at the sorting hat. "I don't think I know what I am anymore."

"That is simple," the hat told the Gryffindor matter-of-factly. "You are a son of Gryffindor... proud and noble and not a bore!"

"That's not a very good rhyme," Harry pointed out.

"Yes I know... but this year I have used all my best rhyming words for the Sorting."

Harry's chat with the sorting hat came to an abrupt halt as Dumbledore walked in, wearing a lime green robe. "Professor Snape tells me you have some concerns. Lemon Drop?"

"No thank you." Harry opted for the shy school boy approach and crossed his feet and stared resolutely at them.

"I can tell you without a shadow of doubt that you are related to your Aunt. Whatever nonsense you have found is exactly that – nonsense."

Harry felt his blood boiling. Here was the old man, who very well knew the Potters had purchased him – and he was lying to him to his face.

"I was hoping perhaps there was more family."

"I'm afraid not child," Dumbledore said in his best grandfatherly voice.

"Perhaps someone else who would want me."

"Child..."

"Why do I have to stay with them?" Harry whined plaintively. "They hate me."

"Young man, you must not say such terrible things about your family. And you must stay with them for your own safety. I don't want to hear another complaint. Is that clear?"

"Yes," Harry mumbled. "Can I go?"

HpHpHp

Harry felt glad to get to his four poster bed that night. The sorting feast had seemed such a chore while Harry felt so miserably alone and angry.

Frustrated Harry had demanded he first shower and was in bed before the third second year Gryffindor had gotten into the shower. That night, for the first time in years, Harry cried brokenly into his pillow.


	3. Fame is Fickle Friend

Chapter Three. Fame Is a Fickle Friend

Harry awoke the next morning looking forward to only one thing: Defence Against the Dark Arts. It was one of the only things that Harry felt he was good at... and it was something that Dudley Dursley could not take away from him.

Generally Harry hated school. If his grades were good back in the muggle world he would get a hiding for cheating; or if they were poor he would get a hiding for laziness. Which meant, no matter how well or poorly he did, Harry was guaranteed an appointment with Aunt Petunia's hairbrush at report card time. That was something else Harry enjoyed about Hogwarts, the Dursley's did not read his reports. No one cared two hoots how well he did. He was accountable to no one. Unlike Ron, Harry's only problem was Hermione who constantly bugged him to complete his homework assignments early.

He rolled out of bed, threw on his Gryffindor uniform and decided he would give brushing his hair a go this morning. "I'm a proud son of Gryffindor, I'm proud; I'm noble and I'm not a bore," he told the mirror seriously.

"Good for you dear," the mirror yawned. "Now if you could please let me sleep."

Harry felt that nothing could ruin his happy feeling – he went to breakfast humming an annoying and happy tune the obnoxious Weasley twins had taught him. He ate his fill, he drank three coffees; much to Hermione's chagrin and he pored over his timetable memorising which days he had defence.

Harry's cheerfulness however was immediately dashed as it hit him exactly who the Defence against the Dark Arts teacher was. There beaming down at the four tables with perfectly pearly white teeth was the new Professor Gilderoy Lockhart.

"Have you drawn love hearts all over your timetable?" Ron loudly exclaimed looking over Hermione's shoulder and trying to steal her timetable.

Hermione wrenched her piece of precious school paper back and glared at Ron.

Harry banged his head on the table.

Harry was not surprised that he was right. Lockhart was an idiot. No. Lockhart was a pompous idiot. And pathetically all the girls, including pug-faced Parkinson, were besotted with the imbecile. Turning around in his seat he could tell that the Slytherin boys thought so too. Malfoy was rolling his eyes heavenward and Harry was almost certain he saw Blaise Zabini mouthing, 'Merlin preserve us all.'

Harry returned his attention to the front were Lockhart was flashing his perfect white teeth. Prat! If he was a banshee he would run at the sight of Lockhart too!

The lesson only got worse as Lockhart announced a pop quiz. Harry eagerly retrieved his quill and ink. Defence was the one and only thing he felt he was good at, except Quidditch, but then again Quidditch didn't really count for anything.

Harry furiously looked down the test paper as Lockhart ceremoniously dumped it on his desk. He had his quill poised to answer when he read the first question. Baffled Harry lifted up his head and glanced around the class before putting up his hand.

Lockhart looked like he was going to skip around the room when he realised that he could answer famous Harry Potter's question.

"I seem to have the wrong paper, sir?" Harry said gingerly.

Lockhart looked down at Harry's test paper imperiously. "There is nothing wrong with your test paper, me boy."

"Yes there is!" Harry exclaimed. "Where are the questions on curses, hexes, dangerous animals and defences and what not?"

Lockhart laughed jovially and ruffled Harry's hair as if the raven haired boy was his favourite nephew. Harry glowered at the man. That was intolerable! And the whole class was looking on and giggling.

"Ah eager to learn, Harry me boy! Destined for greatness..."

Harry stopped listening there in Lockhart's speech but heard Malfoy's whispered remark. "Destined for dark wizard fodder, you mean!"

Draco Malfoy's remark was enough to set in steel Harry's decision to use sarcasm as his only course of action to tell Lockhart that a pop quiz was no place to ask students stupid mundane things that they had no desire to know about their teachers. Picking up his quill he feverishly he wrote down answers that derided and mocked the professor. He knew that if Gilderoy Lockhart had the intelligence to actually read into the questions that the man would realise he was having a go at him – and then he would be in real trouble. Somehow Harry doubted his professor was an intelligent man.

He eventually reached question _54. When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?_

Harry racked his brain before writing down, 'Gilderoy Lockfart's birthday is on Black Friday. His ideal gift would be my autograph.' And with a flourish Harry signed his name on the test paper in a loopy scrawl.

Harry watched nervously as Professor Lockhart flicked through the papers. He watched as the bungling professor reached his and read through his answers.

"Dear me, Harry me boy, you'll need to put my seven books to better use... my name is Lock-hart. It's an 'h' not an 'f'." A few boys sniggered as they processed what Harry had actually written on his test paper. Lockhart continued with a quietened voice. "And Harry thank you for the autograph... but fame is a fickle friend and it is a tad early in your career to start giving out autographs willy nilly – looks pigheaded. There may come a time when, like me, you'll need to keep a stack hand wherever you go, but I don't think you are quite there yet."

Harry for the life of him couldn't believe the stupidity of the man. He had just made the professor a laughing stock and here he was giving him advice on how to handle his fame. Harry blushed beet red as he heard Zabini and Malfoy sniggering in the background. He sank low into his seat at the glares from the second year girls in the class. No one was growling at him quite as intensely as Hermione.

"I can't believe you did that!" Hermione fumed as soon as the trio stepped out of the classroom. "You mocked a teacher!"

"So?" Ron queried clueless, "It was funny."

"It was a disgrace," Hermione screamed. Harry was rather worried his female friend was going to self combust. "Look at all the professor's incredible adventures and all the things he has done and you make him out to be a complete moron."

"He is," Ron replied blandly shrugging his shoulders.

"Good one, Potter," Zabini said slapping Harry on the back as he passed.

Harry stared after the Slytherin boy. "Did that just happen?"

"ARGH!" Stamping her foot in frustration Hermione stomped her way to lunch.

"You better go with her mate," Harry pointed out to Ron. "I don't think she'll talk to me."

Ron shrugged his shoulders, hefted up his school bag and marched after their furious friend. Harry watched him leave and leaned against the cool brick wall.

"Potter, Harry Potter!"

Harry heard his name being called and realising it was Lockhart he dashed away down the corridor. He didn't fancy another encounter with the man he loathed.

Harry had no idea in which direction he was going. But finally he found himself in front of a girls' bathroom.

"POT – TER."

Muttering all sorts of interesting muggle swear words, which he had learned at an early age from his uncle, Harry futilely, looked for somewhere to hide. Harry had absolutely no idea of how the man kept up with him. Making a quick choice he slipped quickly into the forbidden area. Luckily no girls occupied the bathroom so he sat by the door.

'I wish I had another face... I wish I knew what I really looked like..."

Harry closed his eyes and clenched his fists at his side. He had enough to Harry – ruddy – Potter. He wanted his real identity back. Surely his other identity would be better than Harry Potter.

Suddenly Harry felt a tingling through his hands and feet, which abruptly turned to pins and needles up his arms and legs. He felt his spine shiver and the skin on his face felt incredibly hot.

Harry's eyes snapped open and he stood on shaky legs. Creeping towards the mirror slowly Harry gave a strangled yell. Looking back at him was a face he had never seen before. His hair was like fine black silk, his skin was a little paler and he now had large brown almond shaped eyes. He lifted a hand to mirror and was shock to realise that his fingers were now longer and elegant.

Harry quickly closed his eyes, deciding he would use this happy chance to rid himself of the pesky Lockhart! He closed his eyes and imagined that he was now wearing a Ravenclaw uniform. He visualised the raven on blue and bronze. Very slowly and very cautiously he opened his eyes and to his surprise his Gryffindor robes had changed to Ravenclaw colours.

"I wonder if that is me looking back?" Harry muttered to himself.

"Of course it is!" a haughty voice said behind him. "You're a boy. GET OUT!"

Harry spun on the spot expecting to see a girl. But the speaker was the ghost of the girl.

"Who are you?" Harry asked stupidly.

"Moaning Myrtle and this is my bathroom... get out!" The ghost girl started to bawl loudly.

There was one thing Harry was sure he would never be able to handle and that was a crying girl – dead or alive. He practically threw himself out of the door and straight into something solid.

"Watch it there, little buddy!"

Harry glanced up to see a seventh year Slytherin boy peering down at him. Harry nearly panicked when he realised he was not in his Gryffindor uniform.

"What are you doing in there?" the Slytherin boy inquired sternly.

"I – erm – I... was _experimenting_?"

"Experimenting?" another seventh year Slytherin repeated dubiously. "With what?"

Harry's brain scrambled desperately to find an appropriate answer. "The mathematical equation of bathroom tiles?" he hazarded, hoping that the Slytherins would not inquire further.

The Slytherins raised their eyebrows, but they didn't ask any more questions.

"I'm Nero Parkinson, would have been Head Boy if it wasn't for that Percy Prat," the first Slytherin said, reaching down and finally setting Harry on his feet.

"Yeah, Percy is a prat," Harry quickly agreed, wanting to seem amiable.

"I'm Tertius Nott," the other Slytherin put in not looking at all pleased to be speaking to a second year Ravenclaw.

"I'm... I'm..." Both Slytherins looked at Harry expectantly. "I'm late for Professor Snape's class!" Harry gabbled as he made a run for the dungeons.

"That's odd," Nero muttered watching the small Ravenclaw go.

"What?"

"Snape has double potions with second year Slytherins and Gryffindors."

"The poor wee mite is confused," Tertius put in carelessly. "Snape will sort him out poor sod."


	4. A Disembodied Voice

Chapter Four. The Disembodied Voice

Harry ran almost all the way to the Potions classroom. He stopped just around the corner and closed his eyes. He couldn't turn up to potions with the wrong face – Snape would have kittens. Although, Harry admitted somewhat reluctantly, it might be funny to watch Snape having kittens; especially if he was the cause.

Concentrating very hard Harry was pleased to find out he could easily change back to what he surmised as his 'normal' Potter face. Hefting his school bags onto his shoulders Harry marched towards the potions classroom with a new purpose.

Ron and Hermione weren't waiting by the door, but Draco Malfoy was and he was looking particularly smug.

"Not going so well in paradise, eh Potter?" Draco drawled glancing at his perfect finger nails. "Weasel and Buck-tooth leave you in favour of snogging in the corner?"

Harry felt his face heat up as Draco and his retinue of Slytherins sniggered at his expense.

"I don't suppose you've ever snogged a girl," Pansy put in.

"Feel sorry for the poor lass," Millicent put in. Harry thought that was a little unfair coming from the unattractive Slytherin.

Harry felt his face heating until it was a tell tale crimson. Draco sniffed dismissively.

"Shut up Malfoy," Harry snapped irritably. "Just because you've had all the Slytherin girls sometime in the storage cupboards doesn't mean it is a trend we all want to follow."

"My, my, my. Potter has a comeback!" Zabini chortled slapping a slacked faced Draco on the back.

Harry crossed his arms against his chest and glared at the Slytherins through his lashes.

"Hello Harry," Neville cried breathlessly. Harry nearly cheered as the slightly clumsy Gryffindor saved the day. "I thought I was going to be late. Professor... Harry you're a tad pale. Are you feeling okay?"

Harry blinked stunned. Had he forgotten to change something? He glanced over at the Slytherins, Zabini was eying him suspiciously. Harry looked down at his hands and realised with a jolt they weren't his Potter hands. Shoving his pale, elegant hands into his pockets Harry turned to Neville.

"Hey Neville," Harry said with false cheerfulness. "Yeah, I'm alright, I just skipped lunch that's all."

"You really shouldn't skip lunch, Harry," Neville remarked shaking his head. "You're too skinny."

Harry glowered at Malfoy as the Slytherins all had a good laugh at his expense.

"Thank you mum," Harry snapped in Neville's direction.

"You've been unusually snappy lately," Neville put in quietly. "Are you sure everything is okay? Percy wasn't too hard on yah was he?"

Harry wished he had the guts to shut Neville up then and there. He didn't want to think about pompous Percy Weasley, who chewed him up because his Gryffindor tie was not perfect this morning and his shoe laces were unevenly tied. Percy had loudly claimed that morning that Harry was a 

disgrace to the Gryffindor name and that if he had lived in Godric Gryffindor's time, the founder would have flayed him alive. Hermione had proudly told him that Percy got that information from Hogwarts: A Morbid Medieval History. Harry had made the mistake of telling Percy that he doubted the authenticity of his statement. Percy had then grabbed his ear and pulled Harry to a secluded spot... Harry didn't want to think about what happened next.

"It's fine, Nev," Harry muttered. "I wish everyone would just let it drop."

Ron and Hermione turned up with the rest of Gryffindors just as Snape swept the door open.

"Instructions are on the board."

Harry filed in after his friends and pulled out his ingredients carefully. He flipped his book open and pulled out his cauldron and lit it quickly. He chopped and diced ingredients carefully for twenty minutes before realising that he couldn't quite see the board as well as he normally did. He always had to squint at the board to read Snape's jagged handwriting but today it was near to impossible to decipher. Had his eyes suddenly worsened over the summer?

Sighing heavily Harry took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. He froze and then blinked before dropping his glasses in shock. He could see perfectly without his glasses on.

"Problem, Mr. Potter?" Snape inquired suddenly appearing at Harry's elbow. "Or are we still trying to locate the nearest brain cell?"

"Er.. no sir," Harry mumbled still staring ahead in befuddlement. He wished he had corrected his eye sight years ago!

Snape stared at Harry and then to the board in what any normal person would call bemusement. "Then why aren't we working, Potter?"

"I.. I... I seem to be having some difficulties with my eyes, professor," Harry managed to mumble. "I'll cope, thank you sir."

"Hmm..." Snape murmured stepping away to stare heatedly into Neville's cauldron. "Ten points from Gryffindor."

Harry stared up at Snape confused.

"For not following simple directions: GET TO WORK!"

Harry bent down and picked up his glasses and shoved them into his pockets. For the remainder of the day Harry decided he wouldn't wear the awful contraptions.

Harry worked happily for the next half an hour until he heard a voice. He dropped both his mortar and pestle as he heard the eerie voice. The marble instruments clattered to the ground noisily making the heads of Slytherin's and Gryffindor's snap up to stare at him. Harry however was too preoccupied with the voice to notice that he had an audience.

"Rip... kill... kill... taste flesh... let me kill.."

"POTTER!" Snape's angry snarl tore through Harry's trance. "Look at this mess."

"That voice... did you hear that voice..." Harry murmured.

"Potter if I wanted to hear you babbling nonsense I would have feed you my babbling beverage."

"Someone's going to kill someone!" Harry exclaimed fearfully looking at Snape for any confirmation that he too heard the voice.

"Silence!" Snape demanded glancing around the class whom was already muttering about Potter's strange outburst. Snape took in the pale, shaking form of the young Gryffindor and was pleased to note the lad was not stupid enough to keep blathering. Snape restrained a shiver of dread creeping up his spine and spun back onto the class. "Back to work!" he barked. Harry, the Potions Master noted with an air of annoyance didn't move a muscle. His too bright green eyes were as round as sauces and he was sure that he could see beads of sweat dripping down the boy's brow.

"Zabini, Nott escort Potter here to the infirmary and make sure he gets there!" Snape rapt painfully aware the class' attention had snapped straight back to him. "Potter, detention. Wasting precious class time when you are ill enough not to be here."

"Yes sir," Harry managed to mumble through a lump in his throat.

Snape stared at his two Slytherins, Messers Nott and Zabini had to be two of the more astute Slytherins to realise Snape wanted Potter escorted to the infirmary and nothing more.

"Come on, Potter," Zabini said curling his long fingers around Harry's upper arm. "You really don't look crash hot." Harry glared at the Slytherin balefully.

Nott bent down stiffly and retrieved Harry's belongings and deftly avoided a well aimed kick from Ron Weasley's direction.

"And fifty points from Gryffindor for wasting my time!" Snape added in as an afterthought as Harry and his escort reached the door. Zabini and Nott chuckled.

Flanked by two Slytherins, Harry had no choice but go to the infirmary. He would have gone to the Gryffindor Common Room if he had the chance and he would have been able to talk any of his Gryffindor year mates in doing so. However he didn't think the Slytherins would let him and he didn't want to show them where Gryffindor Tower was... not that the slippery serpents couldn't find out if they really wanted to.

"I thought what you did today in Defence was brilliant," Zabini stated obviously trying to start a conversation on the way to the infirmary.

Harry snorted in reply. "The idiot didn't understand. Used too many big words."

Nott rolled his eyes. "Still for a Gryffie it was not too bad. You weren't however very covert about it."

"I wasn't trying to be covert," Harry muttered. "I was trying to protest!"

"Failed splendidly then," Zabini grinned. "Although, you did make a right idiot out of him."

Harry eyed the Slytherins suspiciously. "What do you want?"

Nott slapped his palm across his heart and pretended to flail about as if he was injured. "Ouch that hurt!"

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion at Nott's antics and chanced a glance at Zabini was smirking at him knowingly.

"Snape wants you safely delivered to the infirmary without any wayward adventures on the side... and to the infirmary you go."

"There's naught wrong with him," Harry heard Pomfrey state. He had been sitting on his bed in the infirmary since being dumped there by Nott and Zabini. Intrigued and slightly bored Harry slipped from the bed and tip toed a little closer in order to eavesdrop.

"The boy is hearing voices that by rights he should not be," Snape's voice hissed. "You cannot possibly say that there is nothing wrong with that!"

"What is this all about Severus?" Pomfrey inquired sounding quiet put out.

"How are you going to explain this to him then?" Snape returned.

"You heard the voice?" Pomfrey sounded surprised.

"Of course I heard," Snape all but snarled.

Pomfrey didn't say anything for a while. "Perhaps you should say nothing to him."

"Nothing!" Snape sounded like he was choking. "That child does not know when to give up. Mark my words well Poppy... he'll be investigating all too soon. He's already questioning his parentage for Merlin's sake."

"He's a lonely little boy, Severus," Pomfrey admonished softly. "Of course he wants some real family members."

"Family is overrated if you ask me," Snape snarled stomping out of the infirmary.

"Well good thing I didn't ask you Severus Snape," Pomfrey said sauntering away into the private domain of her private office.


End file.
